The Distant Whispers
The rain hit the windshield. Hard. Wet. Cold. Captain Elias Thorne gripped the wheel. Knuckles white. The wipers slapped. Left. Right. Left. Right. A rhythm. A heartbeat. Slow. Dying. He was leaving. Not for a mission. Not for a break. He was leaving the force. Leaving the badge. Leaving the city that had chewed him up and spat him out as a ghost. The radio crackled. Static. Then a voice. "Unit...
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